


The Ski Trip

by KrazyPerson6



Series: Trials and Tribulations [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Violence, Death, Guns, In which I torture Italy way too much, Knives, M/M, Rape, Temporary Character Death, They actually go skiing too, could be read as platonic, doesn't really have any romance, this is kinda GerIta but mostly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrazyPerson6/pseuds/KrazyPerson6
Summary: Italy, Germany, Japan, America, Canada, England, France, China, and Russia go on a long awaited vacation to a ski resort in Canada. It's not all fun and games though. Italy is attacked and brutally raped by Russia. Will he ever be able to tell the others what happened?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have written a fanfic, that wasn't an adaptation of a role play with a friend, for a good five years. This is the very first time I have ever written a Hetalia fanfic or posted on Ao3 for that matter as well. Hopefully you like my dark, dark fic. I am so, so sorry, Italy.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a fun, carefree time; a vacation to forget about all their worries and problems and just relax for a change. Instead Italy found himself running for his life through an unfamiliar forest with a raging beast chasing after him. At least, to him, Russia seemed like a raging beast.

Italy, Germany, Japan, America, Canada, England, France, China, and Russia had planned a ski trip to Canada and they had all finally arrived. Of course, as most things went when it involved trying to get all the nations to agree on any one thing, it had taken them quite some time to all agree on a location and a time to all meet for this retreat.

Once he had dropped off his belongings at the cabin he and Japan and Germany were sharing, Italy had immediately donned a heavy winter coat to stave off the bitter cold and frolicked into the Canadian wilderness surrounding the gorgeous ski resort they were all staying at. It was all so different from the Italian landscapes he was used to of his homeland. Here there were tall beautiful mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. He had even seen one of the famous moose that America was always teasing his brother Canada about. He, of course, had steered clear of the animal as he didn't want to tangle with a 6 foot, 1,000 pound mountain of fur with giant antlers.

Italy's sightseeing was cut abruptly short though when out of seemingly nowhere Russia had grabbed him and tried to pull him into a small trapper's cabin that had definitely seen better days judging by its run down appearance. In a sudden burst of strength Italy had managed to break free of the bigger country and was now running for his life. The Russian had absolutely reeked of vodka and wasn't the steadiest on his feet, which was probably the only reason the now terrified Italian had managed to escape.

Running away from things was one thing that Italy was very good at, and he had a good head start on the drunk Russia, but he also had the disadvantage of lack of experience in running in large amounts of snow. Something the Russian was very well skilled in. After about 15 minutes of frenzied running, the crazed Russia caught Italy and dragged him back to the trapper's cabin. Once inside, he wasted no time in stripping him of all his clothes.

"Please, stop! Why are you doing this?!" Italy pleaded. It didn't make any sense at all. Sure, Russia was always a little bit scary and a bit unstable, but he wouldn't really hurt him, now would he?

Russia didn't reply. He only started to pull open his large coat so he could unzip his pants. He pulled out his penis, which was already half erect from how aroused he was as the prospect of what he was about to do. "Suck it, it's the only lubricant you'll get," was all the terrifying man that was looming over Italy said.

Tears were freely pouring out of Italy's eyes already, but he did as he was told. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Russia was so very much stronger than he was. He, at first gingerly, and then with more energy as Russia grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair and shoved himself deeper inside, started to suck at the large penis. Italy could only hope that he would satisfy the drunk man before he did more than ravage his poor mouth.

This, of course, was not the case. After he grew bored of Italy's mouth, Russia roughly shoved himself inside of Italy's completely unprepared bottom. Italy let out a scream so loud that it was a wonder that the entirety of Canada didn't hear him. Russia didn't stop in the slightest to even give Italy time to get used to the sheer size of the penis rammed up inside his ass. It felt like he was getting split in two. Russia started to build up speed, slamming into the smaller man at an ever increasing rate. Blood started to ooze out of his backside and run down his thighs, but still Russia didn't stop. He kept up his fevered pace until he finally satisfied himself inside of Italy.

After he let his scream out, Italy tried his damndest to disassociate from what was really happening to him and go as far away from it all as he could. If only he could block it out it wouldn't be nearly as bad. He managed to think about happier times when he and his friends would hang out and have the best of times. It was very difficult to block out the searing pain of being brutally raped by an extremely drunk Russian man though.

Russia put his clothes back in order, and just left Italy to sob softly on the floor of the small cabin. It was quite some time before Italy found the strength to even move at all, but it was very cold and he would freeze to death if he didn’t put his clothes back on and go back to his cabin. He very shakily made it to his feet and stumbled back. It took far longer than his trip out to the forest and it was quickly getting dark out.

Once inside the cabin he hung his coat up on the hook by the door and then made a beeline for the bathroom. He felt so ashamed and tainted. He had to cleanse himself somehow. He only made a small acknowledgment to Japan who looked up from the book he was reading to greet his friend.

Italy threw his clothes on the bathroom floor and turned on the water in the shower as hot as it would go. He scrubbed himself vigorously all over, trying to wash away the stench of vodka that still lingered on his body. He was disgusting, weak, and filthy. Any other country would have been able to defend themself, but not him. He had just rolled over and taken it.

After he had practically drown himself in the shower and used up all the hot water, Italy finally got out, threw a towel around his waist and stumbled into his room where he collapsed into his bed to cry himself to sleep.

***

Japan had found it strange that the normally very cheerful Italy had looked so down and had barely even acted like he existed when he came back from the walk in the forest he had sounded so happy to engage in earlier. He had expected him to burst through the door all abuzz with chatter about all the things he had seen and done on his walk and probably hover uncomfortably close to Japan and ask him what he was reading.

He didn’t think too much about it though until he needed to use the bathroom himself and went inside. It was still very steamy from the overly hot shower Italy had taken not very long before. On the floor Italy’s clothes were still thrown in a messy pile. Japan signed as he leaned down to pick up the discarded clothes and place them in the laundry hamper that was a mere two feet away. What was he going to do with the messy Italian?

Before he threw the clothes in the hamper, Japan spotted a red stain on Italy’s underwear. How had that gotten there? On closer inspection he found that blood had soaked out to his pants as well. The strangest part was that neither garment was torn, so the damage must have been caused when Italy was not wearing them. Something in the back of his mind told him that he knew what had happened to his friend, but the rational part of his brain told him that it just wasn’t possible.

The door to the cabin opened and Germany walked in, a huge uncharacteristic grin on his face. He had gone skiing with the other countries while Japan had opted to stay at their cabin and read in peace and quiet. Judging from his expression he had had a good time.

Japan hated to interrupt his friend’s good mood, but this was serious. He had to show him what he had found. “Welcome back, Germany. I take it you had fun?”

“Ja, very much so. America tried to show off and ended up with his head stuck in a snowdrift. England and France tried to help him out but wouldn’t stop fighting about who got to do it for so long that China just did it himself.” The blond let out a laugh, still smiling. “Then we all started throwing snowballs at one another.” It was a bit out of character for the usually very serious country to lighten up and just have some fun.

“Ah, I am very glad you enjoyed yourself,” Japan said politely. “But,” he looked down at the clothes he was still holding, “I have something you need to see.”

Germany’s smile disappeared and was immediately replaced with a frown when he saw the blood stains on Italy’s clothes. “What happened?” He knew he shouldn’t have let the little country go off by himself. He was always getting into so much trouble, even in a relatively safe country like Canada.

“I don’t know,” Japan replied. “I just found these on the floor after he took a shower. He was acting rather strangely though; very quiet. He seemed almost depressed.”

“That is very odd. The last time I saw Italy like that was when we ran out of pasta and had to go to the store and get more.” Germany walked towards Italy’s room, set on asking his friend about what had happened to him.

Italy was very fitfully sleeping. He let out a screech so high-pitched it could likely shatter glass when Germany gently shook him to wake him. “Please, don’t. Stop, leave me alone. You’ve done enough already, haven’t you?” came out of his mouth very quickly in Italian.

Germany had to cover his ears just as quickly to save them from the high decibel scream. Japan was fortunate enough to not be inside the room yet and was saved from the full force of it. “Ouch, Italy, it’s just me. Calm down,” Germany said, his ears still ringing. With both the screaming and the fact that it was in Italian, he had entirely missed what Italy had said. All he could tell was that he was obviously very, very scared.

Italy let out several sharp breaths before he came to his senses and realized that he was in his bed at his cabin with two very concerned looking friends staring down at him and not back in that dirty trapper’s cabin with Russia again. “Sorry, I just had a bad dream.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. He had just had a very vivid dream were he had relived what Russia had done to him.

“Italy,” Japan started, “What happened to you out there in the woods?”

Italy’s face turned pale. He felt like he was going to be sick. “What do you mean? I just went on a walk.” He just couldn’t tell them the truth. It was just too much to tell them. They would be so disappointed in him. He was a weak failure.

“We saw your clothes, Italy. We saw the blood,” Germany stated. He got the distinct impression that Italy was hiding something, but didn’t want to call him out on it when he seemed so distressed.

“Um, that, oh,” Italy racked his brain for a plausible excuse for the blood. It had been stupid of him to leave his soiled clothes for anyone to find. He had been too upset to think straight at all and had forgotten all about them. “There was a moose. It was really scary so I ran away and tripped. I fell on a rock, it was sharp. It hurt.”

“I see,” Germany said, still sceptical. While not entirely out of the realm of possibility, it just didn’t sound very likely.

Japan frowned. He didn’t point out the fact that if Italy really did sit on a sharp rock with enough force to make him bleed, his clothes would also have been torn. He was definitely hiding something.

“Well, as long as you’re okay, we better get headed to the lodge. It’s almost dinner time.” Germany stood up from kneeling beside Italy’s bed.

Normally Italy would have been ecstatic about the prospect of food, but he was just too tired and still in a lot of pain to really care about it. He knew though if he was going to keep up the lie that he was fine, he would at least need to act like he was interested. Japan and Germany left him alone in his room so he could change into clean clothes and the three friends headed to the lodge at the resort that was serving their meals.

All the other countries were already there; and already creating a lot of noise. England and France were sitting on one side of the long table in the center of the lodge. They were arguing rather loudly about something and looked to be about to get into a fist fight. America was sitting across from them, ignoring them and smiling at something on his phone. China was sitting on the same side as England and France but a ways down the table. He was muttering under his breath about ‘stupid younsters’. Russia was sitting by himself at the very end of the table, smiling creepily and humming.

Italy nearly had a panic attack then and there just seeing the other country again. How could he just be sitting there, so calmly, after what he had done? Did he not feel the least bit guilty about it? Italy shuddered and almost ran from the lodge.

“You okay?” Germany saw how Italy was shaking and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m just a little cold,” Italy quickly lied. It was getting far too easy to lie to his friends and it felt like a hole was being dug in his gut every time he did.

Italy took a seat next to America, putting the extra strong country between himself and the horrifying Russia. Germany and Japan sat on America’s other side. Italy kept his head down, pointedly avoiding even glancing in the general direction of Russia.

“Hey, dude, I haven’t seen you yet on this trip!” America said to Italy as soon as he sat down. “Nice to see you!” He gave Italy a friendly pat on the back, grinning widely.

Italy winced at the force of America’s pat. He really didn’t know his own strength and it had actually hurt quite a bit. “Nice to see you too. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Italy replied politely.

“Yeah, dude. I think it’s been like, five years or something since we saw each other.” America went on to chatter animatedly about their last time meeting.

Italy started to tune him out at this point. Normally he would have been happy to chat with any of the other countries, but he was still far too shaken to function normally. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep forever.

“And then aliens attacked and enslaved humanity!” America had noticed that Italy wasn’t listening to him when he had directly asked him how things were going for him over on his side of the world and had gotten zero reply.

“That did not happen,” Germany interjected.

“Actually…” Japan started to say, but was interrupted by Italy.

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have spaced out a little. What were you saying, America?” He forced a smile.

“Dude, are you okay? You look a little pale.” America was staring at Italy, leaning a little too close to him to see what was wrong, his blue eyes concerned.

“Ah, it’s nothing, I’m just tired. That’s all.” Italy lied yet again.

America let it slide and soon dinner was served. It was spaghetti, which normally would have had Italy devouring it with gusto (it was the good kind too), but he barely touched his food. By the time everyone else had finished he had only eaten a few forkfuls. He felt sick to his stomach and wasn’t sure if he might vomit at any moment.

France brought out a bottle of wine to share with everyone and they all chatted peaceably enough for a time. Italy drank the wine, almost wishing there was more. Getting really drunk right now sounded like a good idea. Maybe it would help him forget about that afternoon. Of course, a single bottle of wine split eight ways wasn’t nearly enough to even get him buzzed.

Everyone started to get up and leave for the evening, saying their goodbyes. When Russia stood and started to walk towards Italy, he panicked. He ran from the lodge, forgetting his coat. Pure, terrified, adrenaline filled him and he ran as fast and far as he could. Italy didn’t stop until he, quite literally, ran into Canada.

The soft-spoken country had also been invited to their little getaway, but had had some business he had to attend to first before he could join the rest of the countries. He had just finished putting his things in the cabin he and his brother were sharing and was on his way to find the other countries.

“Woah there, where are you in such a hurry to, eh?” Italy’s headlong dash had knocked Canada over onto his back, the smaller country sprawled out on top of him.

Italy was trembling violently, both from the sub-zero temperatures and the fear that was still coursing through him. He didn’t even notice he had bowled over the Canadian.

“Where is your coat? Let’s get you inside, okay?” Canada knew all too well how dangerous extreme cold could be, this was his country after all. He practically carried the freezing Italy inside the cabin and wrapped him in a big, warm quilt.

Canada was putting water on to heat in the electric kettle he had brought with him when his phone started to ring. It was America. “Hello?”

“Hey, bro. I know you were supposed to be getting here soon, and this is kinda sudden but, have you seen Italy? He ran off all super crazy without a coat and it’s wicked cold out here, dude.” America’s teeth were chattering, so it was obvious he was outside in the cold as well.

“Actually yes, I ran into him. He’s at the cabin right now. I’m trying to warm him up. He’s half frozen.” Canada glanced over at Italy, who had curled up into a little ball on his bed.

“Thanks!” America hung up the phone. He burst through the door a few minutes later.

Canada had made Italy hot chocolate and was trying to coax him into drinking it. Italy had yet to say a single word. He only trembled, silently.

“What’s wrong with him?” America asked, walking over to Italy and sitting on Canada’s bed beside him.

Canada sat on Italy’s other side. He had finally managed to get Italy to sit up and take the drink in his hands. “I’m really not sure. Did someone say anything to upset him?”

“Not really. He barely spoke. He’s been acting really weird. Something must have happened that he’s not telling.” America was starting to get slightly annoyed. What could be so bad that Italy wouldn’t just spill the beans?

Italy was mostly warmed up now and started to come back to his senses. He finally noticed the rapidly cooling hot drink in his hands and took a sip. It was delicious. He started a little when one of the North American brothers spoke and he saw that he had a blond twin on either side of him. Why didn’t he remember getting here? The last thing he remembered was...Russia, walking towards him. He had to use all his willpower to beat down the rising panic caused by the mere thought of the man.

“Um, thanks,” Italy finally spoke.

“You’re welcome, but what’s your problem, dude? Running off without a coat when it’s like 20 below is just nuts.” America casually took the credit for saving Italy from the cold even though he didn’t do anything but run after Italy when he had bolted from the lodge. Germany was close behind him and had gone the other way across the resort to help find Italy faster. America realized that he really should tell Germany that Italy had been found before he caught his death of cold. He pulled out his phone and sent the serious country a text.

“I, I, was going for a walk,” Italy stammered. He really, really wanted to tell someone about how Russia had raped him. It was eating away at him, but he was too ashamed. What would they think about him? He just couldn’t build up the courage to do it. It was horrible to admit, but since he wasn’t nearly as close with the two brothers as he was with Germany and Japan, he almost felt he could admit it. He cared a little less what they would think about him, but it was like a fist was squeezing his vocal cords. He couldn’t get the words out.

“And then what? What happened on your walk?” Canada prompted Italy to continue his story.

A knock sounded at the door to the cabin and Canada got up to answer it. Germany was standing at the door, looking very upset and cold. He muttered a greeting to Canada and then stormed over to Italy, his rising anger barely contained. “Italy! What were you thinking, running off like that?! You’ll get yourself killed!” He practically screamed at Italy.

Italy, upon seeing how mad Germany was, had hidden behind America. Germany was very scary when angered. “I’m sorry,” the Italian whimpered, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible.

America wordlessly picked Italy up, quilt and all, and handed him to Germany. He definitely knew how Germany felt. Why wouldn’t Italy just tell them what was wrong? Then he had done something so incredibly stupid. He was seconds away from yelling at the little weirdo himself. He knew that, even though Germany was fighting mad, he’d never actually hurt Italy. The best thing for him would be to go back to his cabin and get some sleep.

Which is exactly what Germany did. He carried Italy the whole way back to their cabin in stony silence.

Japan was hovering by the door, worried sick. “Oh good, you found him.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ja, but he’s still a giant dummkopf.” Germany’s anger had subsided, but a little irritation still lingered. What was he going to do with the troublesome country?

Germany sat down on the couch, placing Italy on his lap. He had wrapped Italy completely in the quilt to protect him from the cold. He pulled the blanket down from off of Italy’s head so he could fully breath.

Tears were streaming down Italy’s face. Now that he wasn’t muffled by the quilt, his sobbing was also heard. He had likely been crying the entire walk to the cabin but Germany hadn’t heard him. “I’m so, so sorry.” A fresh wave of sobs wracked Italy’s body.

Germany’s expression softened. He hadn’t meant to scare the poor man so badly that he was reduced to a blubbering mess. He only wanted him to know that what he had done was stupid and reckless. Germany was better than he used to be at expressing emotions other than anger, but he still was quite terrible at letting others know how he really felt.

“There, there, no need to cry about it,” Germany tried to sooth Italy. He tentatively stroked Italy’s hair, carefully avoiding his curl.

Italy continued to cry. He knew Germany wasn’t really mad at him, he was just upset because he cared, but Italy had to let out his emotions. He buried his face in Germany’s broad chest, trying to find some comfort there. In a few minutes he had exhausted himself so much with crying that he fell asleep on the German.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Germany woke up to find that he had fallen asleep on the couch, Italy still snoring away on top of him. Canada’s quilt was draped over them both. It took a few moments for the grogginess of sleep to fade before he remembered what had happened the previous day. He was still worried about his friend. While it was normal for Italy to have wild mood swings--one moment he’d be crying about stubbing his toe, and the next he’d be cooing over a cute dog he’d found--his actions yesterday had been stranger than usual.

While Italy had been insistent that he had only tripped out in the woods, Germany was still suspicious. He wanted to believe Italy, he really did, but if he was hiding something Germany just had to know. He set his mind on going on a walk himself in the woods later and seeing if he could find any clues about what had really transpired there.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Japan greeted him with only the slightest bit of sarcasm. He had been sitting in the lounge chair next to the couch Italy and Germany were on for a good half an hour, reading his book, before Germany finally woke up. He had seen them fall asleep there the night before, but had thought they looked far too peaceful to disturb and hadn’t waken them.

Germany sat up, feeling a twinge in his neck as soon as he moved. Sleeping in such an awkward position on the couch had not been good for his neck. “Guten Morgen. Could have been better,” he groaned, massaging his sore neck.

Italy was still fast asleep, clinging to Germany. “Hmm, is the pasta ready?” he said, rubbing his face into Germany’s shirt.

Germany stood up. He expected Italy to slide off, but he stayed attached with his legs wrapped around Germany’s thighs and his hands holding fistfuls of Germany’s now very rumpled shirt. Germany let out a deep sigh and gently pulled the somehow still sleeping Italian off him and dropped him on the couch. The quilt fell to the floor. Germany picked it up and carefully folded it. He’d return it to Canada later.

Italy blearily opened his eyes, the short fall to the couch finally waking him up. “Wha-? Is it morning? Ve.” Somehow, during the night, he had forgotten entirely about the events of the previous day and had reverted back to his normal cheerful, spacey self. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

The three friends all headed to the lodge for breakfast; Germany changing into clean clothes first because he was far too embarrassed to be seen in such disheveled looking ones. Canada had taken it upon himself to make pancakes and bacon for everyone, even though the resort had a kitchen staff. He wanted to add a homemade feel to the meal. He and America had gotten up surprisingly early and had the bright idea to make breakfast for everyone. America was still in his pajamas and was handing out oranges to everyone.

Italy accepted the proffered fruit and took a seat. It only worried him slightly that he could barely recall yesterday. It must have been really boring for him to forget so easily, right? He started to peel the orange, humming happily to himself.

America sat down next to him, the first batch of pancakes piled high on a plate that he set in the middle of the table. “Good to see that you’re feeling better today, dude.”

“Hmm?” Italy had shoved a section of the juicy orange in his mouth just as America had spoken to him. He quickly chewed and swallowed. “What? Was I sick or something? I really can’t remember.”

“Really, you don’t remember? You were kinda weird yesterday.” America parted Italy’s bangs and placed the back of his hand on his forehead, checking to see if Italy had a fever. He didn’t.

“Really, I’m fine,” Italy said cheerfully. He really did feel perfectly fine. What was everyone worried about?

***

After breakfast all nine of them went skiing. Canada and Russia were, of course, the best at it because of all their experience with snow due to their cold, northern climates. They even had a race, which Canada won, even if just by a hair. Russia was a little peeved at losing, but he kept a big smile on his face and congratulated Canada anyway.

Italy kept falling down, laughing all the while. Germany kept stoically helping him up every time he fell. France and England weren’t terrible at skiing, if only they’d stop trying to sabotage the other and make him fall on his face. China was showing Japan how to put his skis on the proper way. Japan had almost not joined the others, preferring more peace and quiet to the loud youngsters, but they had insisted that it would be more fun if they all went together. America was zooming down the hill from the highest point, showing surprising skill.

After they were done skiing, a mostly fun time had by all, they had a lunch of burgers and fries and then all went their separate ways for the afternoon. Before heading out to the forest to investigate, Germany took America aside and asked him to keep an eye on Italy. He had noticed that the two seemed to be becoming close friends on the trip and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have such a strong country like America to look after Italy while Germany wasn’t around. America had cheerfully agreed, saying that he had some games he wanted to play with Italy anyway. Much relieved, Germany set off on his investigation.

While it was much warmer now than it had been the night before, it was still quite cold and Germany bundled up for the weather. He walked a good mile or more out into the forest. All he found was trees and snow as far as the eye could see; also a moose. Italy was right, even though Germany was tough, the animal was quite formidable looking and he avoided it.

Just as he was about to give up and head back to the resort, he spotted a small building. It was a trapper’s cabin that had to be at least a hundred years old. Out of curiosity he went inside. It was dark and musty, the inside sparsely furnished with a wooden table and chair with a small box frame for a bed against one wall. The mattress had rotted away long ago. It obviously hadn’t been used in many years and was covered in a thick coating of grime and dust. Moss was starting to grow in places.

Which is what made Germany step inside to look closer at one part of the floor. It was still quite dirty, but there wasn’t dust on one part of the floor. There were what looked like boot prints on the floor as well. He squatted down to inspect the floor. Blood was splattered in the dustless spot. There had been some kind of struggle here; and it hadn’t been all that long ago either, the dust hadn’t reclaimed the spot.

Germany paused a moment to think. Italy had gone out in these woods the day before, he very likely could have come to this very cabin. He somehow injured his backside without ripping his clothes. There was blood right here on the floor. He was very quiet and lied about what happened. Could he…? Germany racked his brain for any answer other than the one that came to mind. Someone had raped Italy.

A primal fury filled Germany on his walk back to his cabin. He would find the bastard who had raped Italy and kill him. Who could it have been though? Even though Italy wasn’t the strongest of countries, a normal human wouldn’t have been able to subdue him. So it had to have been another country.

His anger subsided a little after he had stomped through the woods for a time. This would have never happened if he had been with Italy, if he hadn’t gone off by himself. This was all his fault for not being around to protect him.

Japan was the only one in the cabin when Germany arrived. While it was very hard to talk about, he had to tell someone. “Japan, can we talk? I found something you need to know about.”

“Of course,” Japan replied, sitting up straight and setting his book aside. He had a feeling he knew what Germany was going to say.

Germany told him all about what he had found in the woods and the conclusion he had come to. A few moments of silence passed between them as Japan processed what his friend had told him. In his gut he had already known what had happened to Italy. He knew as soon as he saw the blood on his underwear, but it was a very delicate situation that needed caution in approaching.

“I see,” Japan said. He was at a loss at what to say. He was, of course, upset about it, but getting angry about it wouldn’t change anything.

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?” Germany asked, the question still nagging at him.

“Just think about it. What if it had happened to you? You would have been ashamed, afraid to tell anyone.” Japan was somber. He could see that Germany was just barely controlling an intense fury; his voice was steady but his hands were shaking.

Germany hung his head. Japan was right. If it had been him, he would have likely reacted the same way Italy had. “But why is he acting normal today? Isn’t he upset?”

“He’s either hiding it very well or it was so traumatic for him that his mind has blocked it out completely. It’s a coping mechanism.” Japan looked Germany straight in the eye, dead serious. “We have to tell him at some point, or it will only fester and grow until it explodes. It’s best to do it before too long.”

“Do we really have to? He looks so happy now, won’t that make it worse?”

“Hiding isn’t the answer, I should know,” Japan said, referring to his country's long isolation period from the rest of the world.

Germany knew Japan was right. It wouldn’t be easy though. How do you tell someone the horrible memory they have completely blocked from their mind? He was afraid it would break Italy.

***

Back at the lodge France, America, Canada, England, China, and Italy were having a rather heated game of Uno. Against all odds, France had drawn all four Draw 4 Wilds and was absolutely dominating the game. Everyone was sure he cheated, but he swore he didn’t. He just got beyond lucky.

“Don’t you dare use another one of those on me, you bloody git!” England roared as France slapped his second Draw 4 Wild on England. He had already used the other two on America when the direction was reversed.

“Draw four, mon ami,” France cooed, enjoying tormenting his lifelong rival a little too much.

England glared daggers at France as he added four more cards to the ten he already had. “I hate you, frog.”

“Dude, that was brutal!” America exclaimed as, to no one’s surprise, France won by a landslide.

“But it was fun, we should play again!” Italy grinned. “Hey, Germany! Come join us!”

Germany had walked in and had been watching the game from the sidelines. It was rather amusing watching everyone get all worked up over a silly card game. Italy still seemed to be happy; which would make it all the harder for Germany to tell him what he had to. Did he really have to do it right now? One game wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Okay, everyone, no cheating,” China said, looking pointedly at France. China had declared himself the dealer, because he was oldest.

Germany had never actually played before, so the rules were explained to him before they started. He ended up winning even with Canada pulling a fast one on him and making him draw another card when he forgot to say Uno when he had only one card left in his hand.

Japan showed up later as well and they dragged him into a game. Russia only came in as they were putting the cards away and about to start dinner. It was baked potatoes with broccoli and cheese sauce.

Germany noticed that Russia smelled quite strongly of alcohol. He knew the Russian drank vodka like water much of the time, but wasn’t that a bit too much? He was even quieter than usual, sitting by himself like he had for all their other meals. It was probably nothing, he was always a bit strange.

“So how are you doing, Italy?” Germany turned to Italy. He hadn’t seen him all afternoon, but he looked to be doing just fine.

“I’m good. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Italy tilted his head to the side inquisitively, before quickly changing subjects. “Anyway, this afternoon America and I played this video game….”

He went on to tell Germany all about how he and America had gone to America and Canada’s cabin and played a video game all afternoon. Canada had also been in the cabin, trying to watch hockey. He had gotten rather annoyed with how loud the two were being and left.

Even with his lack of interest in video games, Germany tried to pay attention and nodded his head at appropriate intervals. How in the world was he going to tell this beaming ray of sunshine that he had been raped and was only hiding everything behind a smile? He gulped down his misgivings, he would have to, but not right now. Better to wait until they were alone.

***

Japan’s prediction that Italy would explode came sooner than they expected. Germany never did get up the courage to tell Italy after they had finished dinner and gone to their cabin for the night. Even with Japan giving him pointed glances, he just couldn’t do it.

Italy suddenly woke up screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of the night. Germany rushed to him to find him thrashing around violently in bed. He had awkwardly grabbed the little country to keep him from hurting himself and was now trying to calm him down. “Italy, what’s wrong?! Calm down.” A bolt of fear shot through Germany. Was he remembering? He had no idea how to deal with this kind of situation.

Italy screamed even louder when a strong pair of arms grabbed him. It was happening again, and he was too weak to get away. He went limp in Germany’s arms, defeated. There wasn’t a point in fighting it anymore. “Please, be gentle…”

“What the hell, Italy! I’m not going to hurt you, stop being so melodramatic.” Germany was starting to panic. Italy really thought he was going to hurt him. Even worse, he had already given up fighting far too quickly.

Japan had come running when he heard the screaming as well. He was lingering by the doorway, watching them. He saw that Italy was entirely unaware of where he really was and who he was really with. He walked up to Italy and Germany and calmly slapped Italy in the face. Hard. The sound hung in the air for several seconds before any of them reacted.

“Japan, did you just?” Germany could hardly believe what he had just seen, but it had the desired effect. Italy snapped out of his stupor.

“Huh, wha? What was that for, Japan?” Italy blinked, totally confused about what was happening or even where he was. “Did you want a hug, Germany? You know it would work better if I turned around.”

Germany was still holding onto Italy. He had grabbed him from behind and had Italy’s back pressed against his chest. The blond blushed lightly and let the Italian go. While he was glad that Italy wasn’t screaming his head off anymore, it worried him that he seemed to have reverted back to not remembering anything. Is this just the way it would have to be? A happy lie or the painful truth?

Things calmed down soon after and all three of them realized it was 3 A.M. and they should really go back to sleep. Germany was tempted to stay with Italy, to make sure he didn’t have any more night terrors, but decided against it. Italy would probably want to sleep alone after causing all that ruckus. He was, of course, wrong and soon found Italy crawling into his bed and snuggling against him. Germany unconsciously found himself leaning towards the overly affectionate little man and petting his hair. He fell asleep with Italy's head resting on his chest yet again.

***

Germany was so frazzled the next morning that he showed up at breakfast without slicking back his hair as he usually did. He was super stressed out, barely getting any sleep with Italy being stuck to him like glue all night and the constant nagging that he should just tell him what had happened to him already.

The other countries did a double take when they saw Germany with his hair down. He looked almost like a different person, and he looked much younger. They often forgot that he was actually the youngest out of all nine of them; he only acted mature and serious.

“Dude, is that you, Germany? You look like crap,” America said, trying to eat his rice with chopsticks and failing quite spectacularly before reaching for a spoon.

“I feel like crap too,” Germany groaned, holding his head. It didn’t help that he had a headache the size of Bavaria as well. America talking so loudly only made it worse.

“What did you do last night?” America asked. “Did you get into a barrel of beer or something?”

“No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Germany didn’t go into detail about why he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust America, he just could be quite the loud mouth and it would be best to keep what happened to Italy quiet for now to stop the gossip train from starting.

“You’re going to need this then, we have another fun-filled day planned today!” America slid a cup of coffee to Germany.

Germany glowered sourly, but took the coffee. He’d need to be somewhat coherent if he was going to survive all this fun. He really wished to be home right now, in his own bed, and not dealing with any of this.

“Hey, Germany! Let’s go for a walk together!” Italy grabbed onto Germany’s arm, practically hopping up and down in his excitement. They had finished breakfast and all gone skiing again. Italy had grown bored with just skiing and wanted to go on an adventure.

At first Germany didn’t want to go, but after thinking about it he realized that it would be the perfect opportunity to finally tell Italy what he had to tell him. Once they were deep in the woods and most definitely alone, he turned to Italy, who was exclaiming over how cute a rabbit that was quickly hopping away was.

“Italy, this isn’t going to be easy, but I really need to tell you something.” Germany stood very stiffly, so much so that his back started to hurt from how tense he was.

“Yeah, what is it, Germany?” Now Italy was making a small snowman with twigs for arms and pebbles for eyes.

“The day we got here, you went out in these woods by yourself, right?” Germany swallowed the lump that was in his throat.

“I think so? That day’s still pretty blurry. Didn’t we have pasta?” Italy was frowning, trying to remember. He had finished the snowman and was now standing facing Germany, a quizzical look on his face. “Did,” he paused, “Did something happen?” He had a feeling of dread. Something had been nagging at him for the past two days, but he just couldn’t for the life of him remember.

“I can’t be absolutely certain, but I think… I think….” The words caught in his throat. Germany took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to remain calm. “I found an old cabin in the woods. Inside it there were all the signs of a struggle. I think someone must have grabbed you and,” Germany opened his eyes to find Italy staring at him attentively. “I think you were raped, Italy.”

Italy didn’t react at first. “Excuse me, it sounded like you just said someone raped me?” Italy couldn’t believe what he had just heard. This is some kind of sick joke, right? But it couldn’t be a joke, Germany didn’t joke. It started to sink in and Italy started to remember. He fell to the ground, his legs buried in the snow. It all came flooding back. Russia chasing him, and catching him, and… Italy started to shake, clutching the sides of his head, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Italy, I’m sorry, but I had to tell you.” Germany reached out a hand to touch Italy, to comfort him, but it was slapped away before it reached him.

“Don’t touch me!” Italy screamed, jumping up out of the snow. “Don’t ever touch me!”

His mind was completely clouded with fear and he was lashing out at the only person available. Not a single rational thought was in his mind at that moment and he did the only thing he could think to do; he ran. He ran as fast and as far as he could for the second time in two days. Germany tried to catch him but he was just too fast. He lost sight of him among the trees and soon had to give up. It started to snow, covering up Italy’s footprints.

Italy ran until his legs gave out under him and he collapsed in a heap by a very large spruce tree. He just couldn’t think straight at all. Russia had raped him. How had he forgotten for two whole days? He had yelled at Germany too, when all he was doing was trying to help. He hadn’t meant to do that at all, he had snapped.

Just as he was about to drag himself off the ground and find Germany, a familiar voice reached his ears from behind the spruce, and even without turning around Italy could feel a chill settling into his body that had nothing to do with the weather.

No. Not him. Anyone but--

Italy’s body was frozen in place, halfway to rising to his feet, as his eyes came to rest on the person that stepped out from behind the tree, towering over him with a cold smile.

“So you came back to play with me again, da?”


	3. Chapter 3

Italy stood frozen in place as he stared at Russia. The absolute last person he wanted to see was standing right in front of him. He turned to run, to get away from the object of his terror, but the larger man reached out a hand and clamped it firmly on his shoulder before he got more than a footstep away.

“There will be none of that this time. You know I will catch you, my little Italy,” Russia practically purred as he wrapped an arm around Italy’s chest and started to roughly drag him away. Russia’s other hand was quickly slapped across Italy’s mouth as he opened it to scream.

The terrified Italian struggled to no avail to get away from the Russian. Soon they were back at the dreaded trapper’s cabin. Italy had to wonder if Russia had planned all this out or just did it on a whim. There really didn’t seem to be a logical reason behind his actions at all.

Once inside, Russia pulled off Italy’s heavy winter coat and tossed it carelessly to the side. He didn’t strip Italy immediately like he had two days ago. He was taking this much, much slower, savoring the moment.

Even though he knew he couldn’t escape from Russia, Italy had backed up as far from him as he could against the back wall of the old cabin. He was trembling violently, hugging himself to try to stay warm in the ungodly cold that was rapidly setting in. He knew Russia was going to hurt him again. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to hurt him, but he knew for certain that was the man’s intent. 

Italy’s certainty that there was no escaping his fate made him slightly more bold than usual and he couldn’t help from asking a question that had been on his mind for awhile now. “If you really wanted to have sex with me that much you could have just asked.”

“Would you have said yes?” Russia was a little taken aback at the sudden boldness of his soon to be victim.

“No.” Italy glared at Russia coldly. “Why would I? I don’t love you.”

“Bold of you to assume I wanted to have sex with you, little Italy.” Russia strode over to Italy and in one swift motion ripped Italy’s button down shirt in half. Buttons scattered everywhere and the pieces of the now ruined shirt fell to the floor.

Russia pulled both his gloves off and ran a hand along Italy’s now bare chest. “No, I didn’t want to have sex with you, little piglet.” He dug his fingernails into the flesh of Italy’s chest, he wasn’t pressing hard enough to draw blood but it hurt like hell and left little indents. “That would imply that I was trying to pleasure you,” he spat out the words like they were poison in his mouth. “No, I was trying to humiliate you, to make you suffer.”

Italy tugged at Russia’s arm halfheartedly, trying to get him to stop digging into his chest. He was so cold he was starting to turn blue. One would think that the touch of another living being would offer some warmth, even a morally depraved one like Russia, but his hands felt like pure ice and it was only making Italy’s chill worse. “But why? What have I ever done to you?”

Russia smiled coldly. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why-” Italy’s eyes grew wide as he saw Russia pull a metal pipe out of seemingly nowhere. 

“Because everyone loves you. You always have so many friends who love and care about you. While who do I have? No one. No one at all.” He raised the pipe and slammed it into both of Italy’s shins, the sickening crack of breaking bones resounded through the otherwise silent cabin.

Italy screamed and fell to his knees, making the pain worse by falling on his now fractured legs. He fell flat on his face from there, trying to relieve the pressure on his legs. He had held back crying, but now tears were flowing freely; the cold froze them just as quickly as they left his eyes. His mind was still trying to catch up with what Russia had just said. His reason for doing this was because he thought no one loved him, that he was jealous of Italy and his friends and wanted him to suffer because of it? It was sure a funny way to go about making friends.

Russia pulled a knife out from the folds of his long coat. He used it to cut Italy’s belt in half and continued running it down the length of his hip, thigh, and leg until he had cut his jeans and underwear from his body, not caring in the slightest that he cut deep enough into the denim in places to draw blood from Italy. He repeated the action on the other side and soon Italy was naked.

With his now broken legs, Italy could do nothing to stop Russia from destroying his clothes, he couldn’t even move from where he had fallen on the floor. He was forced to lie still and let himself be stripped of the last of his warmth and dignity. Everything hurt, even shivering. At this rate he was going to die from hypothermia before Russia did anything else to him.

“Finished already?” Russia cooed, pulling Italy up by his hair and forcing him to stand on his broken legs. “We’re only getting started.”

“Please, stop,” Italy begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What was that? Did you say you wanted more, little Italy?” Russia grabbed Italy’s left arm and twisted it backwards until an audible crack sounded. He ignored Italy’s agonized screaming and held him upright, taking great pleasure in inflicting as much pain as possible on the man. Italy’s right arm was his next target. When he was finished breaking that he let both arms fall to Italy’s sides at odd angles, and as Russia stopped holding him up, his body fell limply to the ground. Russia smiled cruelly at his handiwork at breaking all four of Italy’s limbs. There was no way he could escape.

Italy was in so much pain at this point he was about to pass out. Honestly he welcomed it, anything to stop this torment. He tried to close his eyes and just let the sweet caress of oblivion take him, but was summarily snapped back into wakefulness by Russia kicking him in the ribs.

“Now, now, there will be no sleeping. You need to stay awake,” Russia commanded. He picked the metal pipe up from where he had propped it against the logs of the cabin wall and struck Italy across the back with it. He struck again and again until Italy’s back was nothing but red welts and dripping blood.

Italy could do nothing but cry and whimper on the floor, praying to God that Russia would just end it already. The pain was getting so great that he was growing numb to it. Before too long he wouldn’t be able to feel anything.

Russia put the pipe aside again and took his knife to Italy’s chest, after flipping him over onto his back, making sure to do it as painfully and roughly as possible. He ran the knife over Italy’s torso, drawing bloody lines. He soon grew bored of this as he saw how dull and lifeless Italy’s eyes had gone. He wasn’t going to last much longer with the combined forces of the cold of the Canadian winter and the injuries inflicted on him, and there was one last thing Russia wanted to do to him before the end.

He reached out a finger and stroked Italy’s hair curl, gauging his reaction. He was told it was his erogenous zone and he wanted to see for himself if this was true. When Italy didn’t react at all he grabbed the odd piece of hair and yanked on it. It got the reaction he was hoping for when Italy thrashed and screamed. Grabbing it was the equivalent of pulling on someone’s penis.

Russia continued to abuse the curl until Italy fell still again, the fight gone from him. Russia looked down and noticed that Italy’s actual penis was erect, completely against his will. He reached down and grabbed it, digging his fingernails into its length. He began to yank the very sensitive and blood engorged organ with his fingernails still dug into it, blood started to trickle down from it as his nails punctured the skin. Russia didn’t stop abusing Italy’s penis until the smaller country ejaculated all over his own stomach.

Italy was so far gone his only reaction to the abuse was to moan piteously, his breath hitching as he came. It was humiliating; he wasn’t aroused in the slightest but his body had other ideas that he couldn’t control. The semen sprayed over his stomach was warm, but only for a moment before it froze like everything else. Italy tried to imagine someplace warm. Maybe Hawaii. Yeah that sounded nice. A beautiful beach with palm trees and a vast blue ocean. The pain finally won and he fell unconscious.

He was roughly shocked awake a few minutes later by Russia slamming him down face first on the small wooden table in the middle of the trapper’s cabin. The table was in no way empty either. It still had a plate, a cup, and a very rusty fish gutting knife lay out on it. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime that was sent up in a cloud as Italy hit it square on. He almost wished he didn’t miss hitting the knife. How much longer would Russia insist on torturing him? He had to be getting tired of it by now.

It came as no surprise to him when Russia spread his cheeks and rammed his penis inside his ass. He of course didn’t use any kind of lubrication, just like the last time. It wasn’t long before Russia tore Italy from the inside and he was leaking blood straight from his anus again. Russia grabbed hold of Italy’s hair with both hands, holding him in place as he picked up speed, the squelching slap of his bloodsoaked thrusts drowning out any other sound in the cabin.

Italy saw stars as Russia drilled into him. He just couldn’t handle this anymore. Russia finally let go of his hair and let his head fall to the table. Italy’s head hit the table with a resounding crack. It was the last straw, Italy died then and there, letting out a strangled gasp as his last breath.

Russia didn’t even notice that Italy was dead as he came close to his climax. He gripped Italy’s thighs tightly, letting out a pleasured moan as he filled Italy’s limp body. At least the annoying country was useful for something. He’d make a good whore if only he didn’t scream so much.

Suddenly the door to the cabin burst open in a flurry of biting cold and snow. America stepped inside, frozen in absolute shock at what he saw before him. 

After Italy and Germany had been gone on their walk in the woods for what America thought was far too long, he had gone looking for them. He had found Germany, who was in a frenzied panic, searching the trees for his lost friend. He joined the German in the search and they had gone different directions to cover more ground quicker. America could hardly see anything in the steadily increasing blizzard and was giving up hope when he had caught sight of the trapper’s cabin and heard noises coming from it.

He had never expected to find Russia and Italy in it; Russia with his very bloody penis buried inside Italy and Italy completely naked and his body covered in blood and bruises sprawled out on a table.

“What the actual fuck-” America took a step inside the cabin.

Before he got any further, Russia whipped a hand pistol out of his coat and shot the blond in the leg to prevent him from getting any closer. He pulled out of Italy and let the lifeless corpse fall to the floor with a loud thud. He quickly tucked his now flaccid penis back inside his pants and raised his gun again.

America had fallen to the floor after he had been shot and was gasping and holding his injured leg. He looked up just in time to see Russia pull the trigger. It was the last thing he saw before the bullet hit him directly in his heart, killing him instantly.

***

Germany had a feeling that he’d end up at the old trapper’s cabin again. The place had such a creepy vibe to it that it was inevitable. When he had had no luck in locating Italy he had trekked back to where he thought it was. Actually finding it was another story with the limited visibility provided by the blizzard; which thankfully was starting to settle down.

He now stood in front of it, a little wary to enter. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was inside. The door was slightly ajar and he gingerly pushed it open. At first he couldn’t see anything. The contrast from the bright whiteness of the snow covered landscape outside and the dim little building was too great. After a minute his eyes adjusted enough to make out a shape on the floor. 

It was Italy.

Germany rushed inside, not seeing America’s body lying just inside the door and tripping over it. He fell to his knees, quickly turning to finally see the body. America was spread out on his back, blood pooling around his corpse from a gunshot wound in both his chest and left leg. Germany’s eyes widened but he left the body where it was and continued into the cabin to Italy. America was obviously dead, there was nothing he could do to help the poor man.

“Oh, Italy, who did this to you?” Germany had reached Italy and was taking in the full extent of his condition. He knelt by his side and took his index and middle fingers and placed them along Italy’s neck, checking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. He ripped his gloves off and tried again. Still nothing. He placed both hands along the sides of Italy’s ghostly pale face. He was freezing cold to the touch. He was dead as a doornail.

It took a few moments for it to sink in. Someone had killed both Italy and America. Whoever it was also cruelly tortured Italy. Germany frantically searched the cabin, but he was the only living being in the place. The only thing that seemed out of place was a long metal pipe, covered in blood, propped up against the far wall.

Even though he was dead, Germany wrapped Italy in his coat; which he found on the floor, and was Italy’s only undamaged article of clothing. He picked America up from the floor and, with him slung over one shoulder and Italy over the other, he started back to the lodge. He didn’t care that both bodies were leaking blood all over him.

Once back at the lodge he laid the bodies out on the dining table. It had taken everything in him to keep from breaking down as soon as he had been sure that they were dead back at the trapper’s cabin. Now that he had stopped, he couldn’t stop the tears. He pounded his fists into the table, great sobs racking his body. He was useless. He wasn’t even there when they had died, he didn’t do anything to prevent it from happening.

Japan found him a short time later, still lost in his self-belittling thoughts. The Asian country stared at the bloody bodies of his friends laid out on the table. “How?” Was the only thing he could say.

“I wish I knew!” Germany shouted, startling his friend with the sudden ferocity.

Japan ran his eyes over first America’s and then Italy’s bodies. Whoever did this wasn’t playing around. He walked closer, pulling Italy’s coat open to get a full view of his injuries. He grimaced, holding himself back from vomiting. It must have been horrible. Italy’s entire body was broken.

Germany and Japan sat in silence for a time, neither one knowing what to say. What did you say after your friends had been murdered? They had all died before, of course, but that was in times of war. This was different. Someone had just killed them, seemingly for fun and no other reason. They would revive, but it never became any easier, no matter how many times it happened.

The other countries found them sitting there. 

“Bloody hell, what’s that smell? Is it, blood?” England asked before his green eyes rested on the bodies on the table.

“America!” Canada cried out, running to his brother. He grabbed his hand and found it stiff and cold.

France started crying openly, unable to hold back his sorrow. “Wh-who could have done this?” he choked out between sobs.

China stood to the side with a sad look on his face. “There’s only one of us missing.”

***

They ended up moving the bodies from the lodge. The human staff would probably be upset to find a couple of dead bodies hanging around the lodge. America was alive by the next morning but Italy stayed dead longer. Germany refused to leave his side. Japan had to bring him food and practically order him to eat it. Germany ate it, but it tasted like ash in his mouth. He wondered if maybe England had made it, but it was just a normal sandwich. 

He was still worried about Italy. Why had America come back to life so quickly while Italy was still dead? It probably had something to do with America being so much younger and stronger than Italy; he also hadn’t been tortured and raped to literal death like Italy had.

Italy’s bones had been set and he was in his bed at his and Germany and Japan’s cabin. Even after he came back to life, bones took awhile to heal and needed help to set correctly. Taking any of the countries to a hospital would have been pointless since a doctor would take one look at them, pronounce them dead, and ship them off to the morgue. Getting out of a coffin was never fun.

Italy finally resurrected the morning after America had. He found himself staring up at the ceiling of his room, not entirely sure where or even who he was for several minutes. In his empty minded musings he wondered if this is what Jesus had felt like when he had come back from the grave.

He became aware of someone breathing next to him and turned his head to find Germany, fast asleep, lying next to him. Germany hadn’t slept since the night Italy had woken up screaming and he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Italy really wanted to reach out and run his hands through Germany’s hair, he was so cute when he was sleeping, but his arms were still very much broken and he couldn’t move. He settled for just watching him until he woke up.

“Good morning,” Italy greeted when he saw Germany’s blue eyes flutter open.

Germany blinked, still half asleep. “Oh thank God, you’re alive!” He sat bolt upright, reaching for Italy to give him a hug, grateful that he was finally in the land of the living, but stopped when he saw the grimace on Italy’s face. “Oh right, your bones.”

“Yeah, still kinda broken,” Italy said softly.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? Are you comfortable?” Germany fussed over him like a mother hen. He still felt responsible for all the horrible things that had happened to Italy in the last few days and he felt he needed to do something, anything, to make up for it.

“Yes. I need you to forgive yourself,” Italy said, his golden eyes full of a deep sadness. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Germany paused in his fussing. That wasn’t what he thought Italy would say at all. It was a good thing that Italy wasn’t blocking out the horrible things that had happened to him like the last time, but was it really okay to just forgive everything? He knew Italy had a big heart and was quick to forgive. Afterall he had forgiven Austria even after he had kept him as practically a slave when he was a child, but could it really be that easy? Germany didn’t think he could do that.

Italy sighed, knowing what must be going through the younger country’s mind. “I’ve lived far too long to hold grudges.” He was centuries old, he had to learn to just let it go.

“But are you really okay?” Germany tried to find a part of Italy’s body that he could touch that wasn’t injured and settled on lightly stroking his face.

“Honestly I probably will never be fully okay,” Italy admitted quietly.

Something like this… no one could ever recover from going through something so cruel, at least not within a human’s lifespan. For a nation, perhaps someday decades, centuries later, he might be able to look at the snow without seeing phantom images of red; he might be able to handle the cold without the memory of cruel hands and pain to follow; he might not feel the instinctive need to flinch and run away if he caught sight of a larger man or a billowing scarf out of the corner of his eye….

“But,” he looked into Germany’s eyes, willing his words to be true for both himself and the person in front of him, who was trying so hard to help him no matter how badly he’d lashed out at him before, “we can get through it, together.”

Perhaps someday, he might even believe that.


End file.
